Days Of Wine And Roses
by antoinettelexington
Summary: Antoinette and Elrond are enjoying their marriage in Rivendell, the beautiful Elvish kingdom where he and his three daughters dwell. ElrondxOC oneshot OOC Elrond


"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."  
There was an absolute silence in the halls of Rivendell, heads being tilted and some elves simply stumbling over the common tongue. I tried to break it apart, but the like words mixed and merged in my mind.  
You tried not to make it obvious as you turned to glance at Elrond. As much as he did not show it, he was truly puzzled over the words. A few seconds more ticked by and to save his pride, nay, the dignity of all of Rivendell, he raised his glass.  
"You will have many long years to know us or say farewell, to like or hate us to your own accord. But cheers, you have confused even Erestor with your nimble words. If ever your race of people need a diplomat, I will suggest your dauntless intelligentsia ways in verbal play."  
Elrond took a sip of his wine, many following the act and a murmuring came through of people asking others if they understood it. Lindir came up to Bilbo and asked him, who whispered a better definition. The elf's eyes went with understanding and walked off rather smugly to contain a truth nobody else in that room could guess. Those two were quite a duo when it came to poetry and such.  
"Intelligentsia ways... I'm not sure you used that word properly, my lord."  
Elrond inclined his head slightly towards you, the remnants of a smile hidden by his hand which he leaned on.  
"I'm not sure our hobbit friend can use any common tongue properly. This is why the race of men bother more with long winded paragraphs and less with poetry. By the end of the day, as vapid as it may be, its meaning cannot be lost."  
You gave a small smile at his attempts to brush off the knowledge he had no answer to Bilbo's riddle. It wasn't often such things went over his head. And by a hobbit who lazed around Rivendell in his retirement no less.  
"Then perhaps you should give up your own attempted poetry, my lord. Like you said, the meaning gets lost until one no longer knows if any was there to begin with."  
Elrond frowned lightly at the clear insult, not wanting to seem mal-tempered before so many people. They did not need to know of his hardships or his reactions. Nor of his inability to write poetry... nor anything in fixed verse.  
Upon seeing the frown on his face you tried to soften the blow, regardless of how obvious that was.  
"But then again you never were a poet," hidden insults, "You were a war captain," horrible memories, "and-"  
He cut you off by sliding his hand from his chin and holding it before you as a motion to stop. He then leaned his chin back on it, studying you through moonlight eyes. Dark strands of hair fell over his shoulders, a few strands of red and many dark brown mixing with ebony. It was always such a calm colour, strong and beautiful. A mix just like his bloodline.  
"I'll admit to being a little less poetic inclined," He took his words carefully, as always. It was odd though, he never defended himself, and he was being a lot less blunt than usual. Was it because of his ego? He never acted like that before. Then again, one does not simply insult the Lord of Imladris.  
"If, and only if, you solve that riddle before me."  
"And if I cannot?"  
Elrond glanced at you, the dark of his eyes shinning like obsidian. He had a blush on his upper cheeks, maybe from the wine or the fire in the hall of such name, perhaps even for what was running through his mind. You could only imagine how warm his skin was to the touch, as a peredhel it changed temperatures based on outer environment like a human. It was a trait lost, never having been needed, to elves.  
"We both know what I will say. And before you insult it, I'll brush it off as my human ancestry."  
"Why would I insult it? I find it quite... Delectable."  
You spoke the last word in Quenya which made Elrond look away, focusing on Bilbo who went into a detailed explanation of Gandalf's firework show for a birthday party of his. His breathing picked up the slightest bit, and he leaned heavier on the back of the chair.  
"I can't figure it out."  
Elrond looked at you in slight confusion, you usually could figure out these word games. And rather quickly to. His eyes were more of a murky grey then silver, and he covered his mouth once more though a faint smirk was evident.  
"Is that so?"  
"Potentially."  
Almost instantly Elrond's smile dropped and he raised an eyebrow at you.  
"Potentially?"  
He echoed the word almost silently and you nodded, a smile now lacing your lips.  
"After all, I don't like half of you half as well as I shouldn't like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."  
Elrond said nothing for the greatest time, taking another sip of wine.  
"I believe you talked yourself in a circle."  
"How would /you/ know?"  
"Touché, as the humans say."


End file.
